


Find Nothing Good

by Auber_Gine_Dreams



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Blood and Injury, Explicit Sexual Content, Forbidden Love, M/M, Magic, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, Werewolves, kind of, past seokhao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auber_Gine_Dreams/pseuds/Auber_Gine_Dreams
Summary: “You saved my life,” he says finally. There’s something behind his eyes, some hidden meaning to his words that Seokmin doesn’t really understand.“Because you saved mine,” he counters.Seungcheol grins. “You haven’t tried to kill me yet. You could have killed me in my sleep, but you didn’t.”There isn’t an easy answer, no way for Seokmin to explain that yes, he’s attracted to Seungcheol. Yes, he knows Seungcheol is a wolf, a natural born monster that should be eradicated. Seokmin has spent his entire life like this, learning to kill, killing, hands stained black and red and candy blue.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 28
Kudos: 160
Collections: Enduring Dawn Round 1





	Find Nothing Good

**Author's Note:**

> I want to send a big thank you to the mods! I had a super fun time writing this! Getting inside Seokmin's head was not nearly as hard as I originally feared it would be.
> 
> Title is from "You Vs. Radioactive Monsters: A Survival Guide" by Sophia Holtz.
> 
> I have a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/12S33iReJWBEm4pMLPRAa4?si=Lv3qsEIwS069zj4gmOv-LQ) if you're interested in that kind of thing!!

_But hunter, you were human  
_ _Don't forget it - Mitski_

  
  
  
  


There are no good sounds in the forest at night. The moon shines brightly overhead, heavy and full. There was a time when Seokmin looked up at it with awe, wondered if he could ever grow tall enough to brush the surface with his fingertips, if it would yield, soft like rice cakes. That was a long time ago. He knows better now, in a lot of ways. Seokmin shuts his eyes and holds his breath, straining his ears for the slightest rustle of leaves, the faintest crunch of footsteps. He tunes out the pounding of his heart.

 _There_. 

His feet move before his eyes even open, silent in his pursuit. _Rule number one: they will always be faster and stronger. You must be better._ There is no path to guide him on his pursuit, only the gleaming moon and his instincts. By the time his foot snaps a branch it’s too late. The monster turns toward him, red eyes gleaming in the moonlight. A faerie, royalty if the crown of poisoned flowers is any indication. She gnashes her teeth, piercing scream echoing so loud Seokmin feels his own doom close in around him like a bear trap. If anything else is in the forest, it will flee or fight. 

Seokmin takes out his gun, a firestar 9mm given to him along with his first territory, and takes aim. The bullets are custom made, tipped with iron. He fires and hits her shoulder, staggering the monster backwards. Her blood is vibrant blue, almost fluorescent. The wound sizzles. The first time Seokmin killed a faerie he vomited after. The smell of their blood is sickly sweet, and he can smell it now as the monster crouches on all fours, lunging toward him with another piercing screech. 

_Rule number two: everything is out to get you. Do not show mercy._ Seokmin waits for the faerie to jump, exposing her chest as her claws reach for him. He fires twice. Her body jolts, red eyes wide, and she staggers backward before crumpling to the ground, lifeless. 

The air is always too silent after a kill. Seokmin glances around him, wills his racing heart to quiet. He’s got to finish the job. He’s got to get out of here. He walks toward the body on the ground and takes out a velvet bag from his back pocket. Inside are iron shavings, fae fuel as they called it at The Academy. He sprinkles the corpse from head to toe, holding his breath as the body smokes. After that, it’s a simple matter of tracing the pattern of a rune on his palm, opening the well of magic inside of him, and igniting the body in flames. 

It doesn’t take long to burn, iron shavings speeding the job along. Something in the air still feels off, and Seokmin wants to be out of the forest before his instincts prove right. As the flames dull down, Seokmin spies movement in the trees ahead of him, a shuffling in the darkness. He draws his gun without thinking, aiming at chest height, finger hovering on the safety. 

Seokmin is so busy staring into the darkness that the wolf walks right past him, only catching in his peripheral vision when it’s standing next to the burning body on the ground. The wolf is silver with lines of black, a patch of white starting at the chest that seems to go all the way to the underbelly. It blinks at him, intelligent amber eyes, unafraid even as Seokmin’s gun levels at the creature’s heart. 

This isn’t a wolf. Seokmin knows. He can smell the magic in the air, can tell just from the size of the creature that this is a werewolf. He keeps his gun trained on the monster. 

“When did you get here?” Seokmin asks, lilting the question into something cheerful and pleasant. He even smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners at the force of it. “I killed all the wolves in my territory. Didn’t you know?” 

The wolf blinks, unfazed. Seokmin should shoot it. He doesn’t need another entitled clan of werewolves roaming around. It’s entirely possible he’s got a rogue wolf, but the chances are slim. Wolves rarely make it that long alone. The nearest clan is stationed in Jeonghan’s territory, nearly one hundred miles from here. It would have to make it through Jihoon and Ming — 

He lowers his gun, hand squeezing the grip hard enough that it shakes.

“I’m really not in the mood for whatever game you’re trying to play,” Seokmin says lowly. The wolf narrows its eyes. He has to bite back a laugh. “Let’s get this over with.”

Seokmin raises his gun, lightning fast as the wolf crouches. Fight or flight. Seokmin’s heart hammers. He takes a breath and clicks off the safety. The wolf’s eyes meet his. It feels like an eternity of eye contact, like the wolf is taking a peek inside at where Seokmin’s own monster lurks, just out of sight. The wolf straightens and lopes away, not even turning around for a final glance. Seokmin sighs. He really should shoot it. He’s going to have to soon or later, after all. There’s a flash of shaggy black hair, a wry smirk at the corner of his eye.

He puts down the gun. There’s a bottle of vodka waiting for him in his apartment, phone calls he has to make because he’s already put them off as long as he could. He’ll have to call Jeonghan in the morning, too, ask him about any wolf activity he should be aware of. 

Besides, reloading his gun with silver bullets doesn’t seem worth the effort.

  
  


**⛦** **⛦** **⛦**

Seokmin cannot remember his parents, though he has a picture of them, creased and worn over the years. The corner is so battered he can no longer see his father’s hairstyle. The only thing he recognizes in himself is his mother’s smile. The difference being that hers is radiant, genuine warmth and Seokmin’s is a mask, crafted and honed and always just right for whatever situation he finds himself in. 

Seokmin’s first memory isn’t his childhood home or his first pet. It’s sitting in the cool underground classrooms of The Academy, making fire appear in his palm as the instructor barked out _again, again_ , until he was so weak he scorched his thumb. He still has a mark, a shiny bit of scar tissue obscuring his fingerprint. Jeonghan always told him it made him special, no fingerprint means he can’t be identified, but for Seokmin it’s just a scar. 

His phone call with Jeonghan is a dead end. There is a tenuous, careful kind of truce in his territory with the wolf clan. The Kims are powerful, with many members spread out among high ranking government positions. They cannot be eliminated the same way as, say, the Jung clan Seokmin purged from his territory last year. His questions get him half answers, and Seokmin hangs up the phone in a foul mood.

What is the point of being a hunter if monsters are free to do whatever they want right under the noses of humans? Why was Seokmin thrown into this life? Why take him from his family, train him to use the magic he was born with, and give him a territory to protect if he can only bring about justice to those without money and power?

At least his phone call with Jihoon is more what he expects. The usual criticisms to his methods with carefully hidden praise at the low human casualties in his territory. Seokmin doesn’t mention the wolf. When he has more information, that’s what he tells himself when he hangs up. It’s too soon.

Things are quiet for a few weeks. Seokmin spends his time tracking a vampire that’s started feeding on the public. All willing, or so the media reports. The man is like a celebrity. There’s even a twitter account dedicated to tracking his whereabouts so that those who want to can get bitten.

It’s a good story except that it’s all bullshit. Regular humans are immediately entranced by a vampire’s gaze. They don’t even have to meet the creature’s eyes to fall under the spell, and will do anything the vampire asks them to do whether they are truly willing or not. Seokmin, born with magic in his blood, is immune to this effect.

He’s managed to track the vampire to the shipping district. The port is the perfect place to hide a coffin. Tucked away in some shipping container, light proof, discreet. No one would think to look. Well, no one who wasn’t a hunter.

It’s an hour before dawn when Seokmin arrives at the port. It’s silent, absent of even the screeches of gulls. The waves lap at the dock, the water inky black in the darkness. The moon is waning, half full and hidden by dark clouds. The figure he’s been tracking walks confidently ahead of him, completely oblivious to the danger he’s in. Seokmin keeps his eyes trained on the ground in front of him, gun in hand, concealed by the darkness, and doesn’t make a sound. Tracking has been trained into him since his first week in The Academy, something he’s always excelled at. The vampire won’t know he’s there until there’s a bullet in his chest.

It happens so fast Seokmin doesn’t have time to react. One second he’s a shipping container behind the vampire, the next the figure vanishes, appears again right in front of him. He has just enough time to register the dark hair and violet eyes before the vampire kicks him in the chest.

Seokmin hits the ground, his head bouncing hard against the concrete, vision exploding with dots. The vampire is on him in an instant. There is no time to think. He raises the gun and fires blind, shots ringing loud in his ears. His gun is ripped from his hand. The weight on top of him doesn’t ease. When he can finally see, the vampire is calmly digging the bullets out of his abdomen without even a wince, blood pouring between his fingers. One. Two. Three. He sets each one on the ground next to Seokmin’s head.

 _Rule number three: eventually the gun will fail you. A hidden weapon will save your life._ Seokmin keeps a knife at the small of his back in a carefully concealed sheath. The problem is the supernatural strength pinning him to the ground. The vampire narrows his eyes and punches Seokmin’s left cheek. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he spits, the impact leaving him light headed, the taste of blood against his teeth. He twists his body, puts all of his strength into rolling them over, but he’s no match for this kind of strength. The vampire is barely breaking a sweat, pressing his thighs tighter against Seokmin’s ribs for emphasis. It feels like he’s been put in a vice. 

The vampire punches him, right cheek this time. Stars dot his vision. He’s definitely going to have a concussion after this. There’s _definitely_ going to be an after, he won’t let some pretty boy vampire be the thing to kill him. 

“Are you gonna keep teasing me or will you get on with it already?” Seokmin wheezes, gasping as the vampire’s hands clamp around his throat. “Sun’ll be up soon. Or is your plan to stay here and go out in a blaze?”

The vampire’s hands tighten around his neck, a manic smile on his face. 

“You know, hunter,” he starts, eyes gleaming in the waning moonlight, “legends say vampires have to drink fresh blood, but that’s a lie. I’m going to stare into your eyes while your life fades away, and then i’m going to drain every drop of blood from your corpse.”

Seokmin has been creeping his hand to the small of his back, and at this point he’s not sure if it’s luck or skill that has him go unnoticed. His fingers brush the hilt of the knife as the pressure on his windpipe grows unbearable, and that’s the thing they don’t tell you about getting strangled. It _hurts_ , a burning itch, all you want to do is cough even as your throat burns like swallowing acid. He shuts his eyes but the static remains. He wills his fingers to tighten on the handle of his knife. 

And then, there is nothing. Well, not _nothing_. There is blessed air, the lack of a body crushing him with supernatural strength. Seokmin pulls the knife from behind his back and blinks open his eyes. There is a sickly crack and a growl. He sits up, ignoring the way his body protests the movement, and turns toward the sound. A man is on top of the vampire, hands around his arm, pressing until there’s another crack.The vampire screams and the man on top of him makes a decidedly inhuman growl. 

“ _Filthy beast_ ,” the vampire grits, tossing the man off him with his left arm, right hanging broken and useless. The man hits the ground hard, grunting at the impact. “What business do you have with me, Choi?”

The man, Choi, doesn’t answer. He stands slowly, sparing Seokmin a cautious kind of glance before barreling into the vampire. Seokmin works his way to his knees. His head is spinning and throbbing, like the worst headache he’s ever had times a million. His gun is within reach, and even as it makes the world tilt, he reaches out and picks it up. He waits for the pain to ease before getting to his feet and shuffling forward. 

Finish the job. It’s that or death. There are no other options for hunters.

The vampire has dug claws into Choi’s shoulder, and the man grits his teeth and slams the vampire’s head against the concrete, hand around his throat. The mirror of it is almost too much for Seokmin to see so soon after it happening, but he continues on. His gun is hovering somewhere between the two, like he hasn’t decided who should die first. Choi slams the vampire’s head down again. There is a nasty crack and the fingers in Choi’s shoulder slide out, hand limp as it falls to the ground. Seokmin stops a few feet away. He doesn’t hesitate, three shots to the head, two to the chest. Choi doesn’t move until the vampire’s body begins to disintegrate, cloudy, grey ash replacing flesh until there’s nothing else left. 

When Choi stands up, two things happen at once. Seokmin takes in the deep punctures in his shoulder, moving his eyes over the rest of his body. He’s objectively handsome, standing about the same height as him, with shaggy dark hair and full lips. It’s the eyes that have Seokmin’s haunches raised, gun pointed at the man’s chest. 

Choi’s eyes are amber, eerily bright in the darkness before sunrise. And really, Seokmin has known the entire time that this man couldn’t have been human. No human can overpower a vampire with brute strength. 

“Who are you?” Seokmin asks. Normally he’d bait the man with a disarming smile, but his head feels split open and his body aches and all he wants to do is pass out in his bed (which he shouldn’t do with a concussion, but he’s going to take his chances). 

Choi holds his hands out in front of himself, peace offering.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he says gently, “I was walking home from work and heard the commotion. Figured you could use a hand.” He smiles, almost flirtatious even with a gun pointed at his chest. 

_Rule number four: the monster will be familiar. Do not be fooled._ Seokmin stares at Choi, the silence stretching thin between them. He watches his eyes bleed back to a warm, dark brown. Definitely handsome. He saved Seokmin’s life, injuring himself in the process, and even if he is a wolf (and Seokmin knows he is, that same scent of magic in the air as the forest) that means something.

A life for a life. Seokmin sighs and lowers the gun.

“Leave before I change my mind,” he says. He doesn’t take his eyes off Choi, who lowers his hands slowly and nods, walking backward a few paces before turning and walking away. 

They say a wolf showing their belly is a sign of trust and submission, but Seokmin thinks it takes a lot more guts for Choi to turn his back and walk away from him.

Seokmin waits until he’s out of sight before beginning the slow, careful walk back to his apartment. There is no one to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, no one but his alarm clock to wake him every hour to make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep. 

His throat burns, something bitter that he pretends is just his injury. Some wounds are easy to reopen. They barely heal at all. His empty bed and empty apartment and hollow, empty heart are probably one of those wounds. Or maybe it’s the head injury.

By the time he makes it home, the sun has risen, huge and orange and warm. Seokmin locks every lock on his door, turns his alarm on as loud as it will go, and falls into bed, blackness overtaking him immediately.

  
  


**⛦** **⛦** **⛦**

  
  


He takes a week off, after. Some hunters go stir crazy after a day or two in the same place, living out of hotel rooms, criss-crossing the country as backup for stationed hunters. Even hunters with territories rarely have a place they call home. But Seokmin is different. He can take on any monster, bloody his hands and bruise his body, do whatever it takes as long as he’s got somewhere to come back to. His apartment is small, a one bedroom just outside the city center, but it’s big enough for him, a sanctuary from everything waiting for him outside his door. He misses three calls from Jihoon, but it’s not the first time he’s taken some unscheduled time off. It certainly won’t be the last, either.

There are whispers that make their way to him during his absence. Seokmin has been in charge of the territory for years now. His sources are trusted, carefully picked humans on the fringe of the supernatural. Psychics and witches, parents whose children were taken in by The Academy. Sometimes the whispers are unfounded gossip, sometimes they’re purposely planted decoys. This time, it’s a tip from Hyesung, a witch who sells tarot readings out of the coffee shop owned by his husband. 

_There’s a bar with a stuffy French name_ , Hyesung texts him, _someone came in for a reading and I know they were drained. Energy, not blood. You should check into it. Something powerful is hiding in there._

Next it’s a quick internet search, a scan of social media for reviews. From what Seokmin can tell, the bar is old, owned by the same family for a few generations. That’s the first tip off. The next is that, while most of the reviews online are the usual hits about drinks and atmosphere, two reviewers complain of wicked hangovers in the last few months.

 _That new bartender makes drinks way too strong_ , one woman writes. _I haven’t felt this bad after a night out since university._

And this is how Seokmin finds himself in front of a nondescript bar on a Friday night. The sign is a small wood plaque on the right side, drilled into the brick, _Bruit Blanc_ , faded letters. The history is thick all around the building. Inside, the decor is more modern, but the bar itself is original, dark oiled top with a mirror behind, rows and rows of alcohol on display. There’s a few small groups here and there, but the bar isn’t as packed as the ones closer to downtown are. It’s easy to scan every face in the crowd, though Seokmin doesn’t really know who or what he’s looking for. On his first scan nothing sticks out. No wisps of magic, no minute scent of death he’d expect from a supernatural being capable of feeding from a distance.

He walks up to the bar and takes a seat at the end of the counter, wall to his left, front entrance in his line of sight. On his second scan he flags down the bartender, who catches the movement of his hand out of the corner of his eye. He turns around and the hair on the back of Seokmin’s neck stands straight up. 

The bartender, the same man from the docks, walks toward him with an easy, professional smile. He’s either a really good actor or he doesn’t recognize Seokmin. He sets a square napkin in front of him. 

“What can I get you?” he asks, and god Seokmin wishes he could remember his name. Not something easy to remember like Kim, but not so unique that it’s unforgettable. 

Seokmin flashes a smile. He’s a good actor, too. 

“Whatever beer you have on special.” He lets his eyes flit across the bartender’s face. Same dark, shaggy hair, same eyes, same strong body. He’s sure of it.

He grabs an expensive bottle even though Seokmin didn’t ask for it, pours it into a chilled glass and sets it down on the square in front of him. This time, his eyes roam all over Seokmin, finally settling on his own. It’s intense. He wonders what normal humans must think of him. Confident. Strong. Handsome. They can’t sense the magic wrapped around him like a cloak, don’t know that the power they feel behind his stare is real, tangible. The grin he gives Seokmin as he accepts the card from him hints at the sharpness of his canines. 

He turns around and swipes the card, keeps the tab open like he’s a regular, like he knows, somehow, that Seokmin needs more than one drink to relax.

“Lee Dokyeom,” he reads before passing the card back to him. His cover name, given to him the day he arrived at The Academy. It’s on all his legal documents, ID, credit cards, even the lease of his apartment. 

Seokmin takes the card and slips it into his wallet. Their eyes lock again and it’s electric. 

“Can I get your name, too?” he asks, treading a careful line between friendly and flirtatious. He still isn’t sure if they’re both playing a game, waiting for the other to slip up, or if the guy is genuinely checking him out.

He’s waved down by another customer before he can answer, but he does give Seokmin an apologetic smile before walking to the other side of the bar. So Seokmin downs half his beer and stares at the bartender’s back. He’s dressed in a tight fitting black shirt and dark jeans and Seokmin can’t be blamed for staring even if most of it is him trying to decide how to get him away from all these humans. It’s always a plus when the supernatural in question is attractive. Makes the whole grueling process of getting them alone easier. Seokmin is good at his job, but some things just can’t be faked believably.

When he turns enough to see Seokmin out of the corner of his eye, he holds up his empty glass with a wink. He makes his way back over, though he’s stopped a few times by people Seokmin assumes to be regulars, if the way the bartender grins at them is any indication. 

“Seungcheol,” he says when he refills Seokmin’s drink. “Choi Seungcheol. And this one’s on me.”

Choi. That was the name. Hearing it brings it back crystal clear. 

Seokmin gives him another dazzling smile. “Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol gives him a questioning look. “Officially? Have we met somewhere before?”

Seokmin lets the smile on his face morph into a sneer. “I think you know exactly who I am and _I_ —” he tilts his glass in Seungcheol’s direction “know exactly who _you_ are.”

It’s then that something like genuine fear flashes across his features. Good. The ability to instill fear in something strong enough to lift a car one handed is half the fun of hunting monsters.

Seokmin drains half the glass, setting it down on the bartop with an audible sound. He reaches across and takes hold of Seungcheol’s wrist. 

“When you’re done here, meet me out back,” he says lowly. “Don’t make me wait too long, otherwise all these people might see something they aren’t supposed to.”

If anyone were to overhear, it would seem like a hookup. Seokmin’s grip on Seungcheol’s wrist is casual, flirtatious even, but the man in front of him knows his true meaning. Seungcheol, for whatever reason, decides to play along, gifting him with a gorgeous, dimpled smile and wink. 

“You have good timing. I’ll be done in an hour.”

Seokmin lets him go and stands, taking his leave with a final scan of the bar. Seungcheol is the only supernatural here. He’s got to be the man his sources told him about. There’s no other possibility. He’s never heard of wolves feeding on humans, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. For every rule there is always an exception. 

True to his word, Seungcheol shows up in an hour. Seokmin is sitting on the trunk of someone’s car, leg dangling off the edge. When he looks over Seungcheol’s face is tense, mouth a straight line, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking a few steps closer. “You obviously didn’t come to thank me for saving your life.”

Seokmin bristles at the words. So he _was_ acting. He slides off the car, landing easily on his feet. There’s a healthy distance between them, but Seokmin can make out enough to see that Seungcheol is on the defensive. 

“Are you tracking me?” he continues. “Is this about what happened in the woods? I swear I didn’t know there was a hunter in the area.”

“In the woods?” Seokmin asks, brows furrowing. It takes a moment for him to remember. “That was _you_?”

Seungcheol looks down at the blacktop and nods once. Goosebumps break out all over Seokmin’s body. What are the chances that he’d meet the same wolf twice? It sets off warning bells, something decidedly not right about the whole situation.

Seungcheol opens his mouth to speak only to drop to the ground. A knife flies straight through the place his chest was only seconds ago, clattering to the pavement an impressive distance away. Seokmin jumps back and takes cover behind the car. The sound of shoes slapping against concrete bounces off the building. 

“Get up,” a voice says. Seokmin feels like he’s sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

Seungcheol scrambles to his feet and ends up with his back against the dumpster. Another knife flies at him. He doesn’t dodge fast enough, the blade slicing across his arm. It sizzles and Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut. 

Seungcheol could mention Seokmin hiding in the shadows, but he doesn’t. The hunter walks closer and he keeps his eyes away, resolute, determined to face his own fate. Seokmin, honestly, would rather take on a nest of vampires himself than make his presence known. He does it anyway.

He runs between the hunter and the hunted, hands in front of him, passive.

“Minghao,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

Xu Minghao, his classmate at The Academy, is a formidable hunter. His hair is silver, long enough to hide the birthmark next to his left eye, a red crescent that glows when he uses his magic. There are other times, too, but Seokmin doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on them. 

Minghao’s eyes widen, the knife he’s got above his head, poised to throw, falls back to his side. 

“Taking care of some business.” His expression is closed off, guarded, like they’re back at The Academy and Seokmin is talking to him for the first time. “Can you get out of my way before he tries to run?”

Seokmin glances back at Seungcheol. He certainly _looks_ like he’s going to run, eyes wide, left foot turned, knees just starting to bend. He locks eyes with Seungcheol for a moment, a silent plea. 

He owes Seungcheol. That’s the truth. Seungcheol saved his life, and he can’t very well let Minghao kill him. Besides, he’s got to find out if Seungcheol is the one siphoning off energy from bar patrons. If Minghao kills him, he’ll never know.

It’s surprisingly easy to flip the switch, to drain any emotion away into nothing. He’s been trained for it, years of practice at putting his emotions in a fireproof box to deal with later. Minghao is the one who ended things, calm and easy. _You aren’t taking this seriously_. Seokmin had replied, _When was this ever serious_? And Minghao had laughed, something bitter and defeated, and taken the last of his things with him on the way out. Seokmin’s studio never felt bigger than it did then.

He thinks about that Minghao. He thinks about the last time they fucked, how Minghao wouldn’t look him in the eye, how he’d already made up his mind. The wound is opening all the time, an ache at the realization that Minghao was probably really good for him, and he just let him walk away.

Seokmin sneers. “This is my territory, Minghao. Or did you forget?”

Minghao stiffens, narrowing his eyes. He grips the knife at his side until his knuckles turn white. 

"Are you seriously pulling that with me?" Minghao asks. He sounds like he's drunk something unpleasant, and Minghao has never been a man to tolerate things for long. "When has it ever been about territory between us?"

 _Rule number five: if you follow the trail of blood you will find nothing good. You must follow it anyway._

"There hasn't been a _between us_ for a long time, has there?" Seokmin replies. He can feel the corners of his lips pulling, his mouth twisted into something like a smirk with all his teeth on display.

He takes a few steps closer and holds out his hand. "Give me the knife and get out of here. I can handle some rogue wolf myself."

Minghao stares at him for a long time. There was a time when Seokmin could name every single emotion swirling in his deep brown eyes. If he tried, he could still name some. The anger is easy to see. There might even be some hurt mixed in. He slowly raises his hand, relaxes his grip on the knife. 

And then it's out of his hand, hurled toward Seungcheol too fast for Seokmin to do anything about. Seungcheol manages a slight dodge, but the knife still ends up in his shoulder, just next to the first cut Minghao made.

Seokmin turns back to Minghao, steps close enough to grip his wrist, hard.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Seokmin hisses. Minghao looks at his wrist, looks into Seokmin's eyes and smirks.

He shouldn't be able to surprise Seokmin anymore. 

"My problem," Minghao starts, stepping closer, and now their bodies are almost touching. It makes Seokmin's heart seize up, makes his blood rush through his body, “is that I don't think you plan to take care of anything. Whatever you're doing here, it's not hunting."

Seokmin sees red. Minghao is pushing his buttons on purpose, but it doesn't mean he's not affected. He squeezes Minghao's wrist until the bones grind under his hand. 

"Leave," Seokmin says lowly, " _Now_. I expect a notice the next time you decide to hunt in my territory. Otherwise I will be well within my rights to deal with you however I see fit."

Minghao's pupils widen in the streetlight. Seokmin can hear the soft sounds of his breathing speeding up. He wonders what new scars Minghao has added to his body. Does his skin still taste the same after a hunt? Seokmin is pretty sure he could find out. He eases his hand off Minghao's wrist and takes a step back, then another. The space helps. He takes a deep breath of air that doesn't taste like Minghao's cologne. 

Minghao’s birthmark glows, but his hair obscures it enough that Seokmin doesn’t notice until it’s too late. He draws the spell in the air so fast Seokmin can only brace himself. A bright beam of light hits him in the stomach. It feels like he’s been struck by lightning, white hot and searing. He gasps as he’s flung backward, hitting the ground with a thud. He can’t seem to catch his breath, each gasp a desperate attempt to get air in his lungs. 

Minghao was always better with magic, The Academy’s prince. He glances between Seokmin and Seungcheol, eyes dark with anger Seokmin has rarely seen directed at anything that wasn’t a monster.

“Watch yourself, Seokmin,” Minghao warns. “I can assure you I won’t be the last hunter to come looking for him. I hope you get your shit together before then.”

He turns on his heel with a final shake of his head, sheathing the knife in his forearm holster. He’s almost to the edge of the parking lot when he turns to look over his shoulder.

“I’d say I hope you make it home before you lose consciousness, but you know I’ve never lied to you.”

Seokmin is still gasping in air when Minghao leaves, ears ringing in the silence. He lays back on the blacktop and tries to concentrate on his breathing. It’s something like an allergic reaction. Minghao’s magic has always been extra potent against him, mixing with his own in a way that means even the smallest bit of it in his body leaves him disoriented. A blow like this means Seokmin is lucky to still be awake, but Minghao is right. The edges of his vision are already going black. 

One more rattling breath, and darkness overtakes him.

  
  
  
  


When Seokmin wakes up, it’s to a blank white ceiling. Smooth, lacking the swirling texture of his own. He's not at home, and it's this that jars him enough to sit up. His head gives a warning throb, but he shakes it off, glancing around the room as his eyes adjust to the light. Not a hotel room. He can tell by the curtains. He's still feeling the effects of Minghao's magic. Everything has a dream-like quality, the air hazy, his body syrupy like he's been drinking. 

A noise from the other end of the room. He turns his head. The wolf is there, elbows propped on his knees in a chair. Seungcheol, right. It's the magic. He should have seen him when he scanned the room. 

"How are you feeling?" Seungcheol asks. The shoulder of his dark shirt is wet. There's a white bandage peeking through the slit left by Minghao's silver-tipped knife. Werewolves can heal almost anything instantly, but without magical intervention, silver makes them heal like humans. 

"Like shit," Seokmin answers honestly. Seungcheol smiles in a way that looks like he's about to laugh, but he doesn't. "He really hit me full blast. Asshole."

This time Seungcheol does laugh, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. He stands and walks closer, gesturing to the edge of the bed. Seokmin makes space for him to sit. 

"I didn't know where else to take you. I hope you don't mind."

Seokmin tries to shake the heaviness from his body, stretches his arms over his head, breath hitching as his stomach flares with pain. "Better than waking up in the parking lot behind a bar."

Seungcheol's eyebrows furrow as he glances down to Seokmin's stomach and back up to his face.

"Is it all magic or just that hunter's magic?"

Seokmin sighs.

"You don't have to tell me," Seungcheol rushes out, holding his hands in front of him. "I'm the enemy, after all."

Seokmin is beginning to think Seungcheol is always this passive. He's seen him fight though, remembers the way he pinned that vampire at the dock like it was nothing. It's something about being a hunter. Seokmin has spent most of his life fighting monsters whose young could break every bone in his body. He...appreciates that kind of strength, where others might fear it.

"Just his," Seokmin answers softly. "Ever since we were kids." He meets Seungcheol's eyes. "It's somewhere between being drunk and being poisoned, but I'll be okay." He licks his lips, glancing down to Seungcheol’s without thinking too much about it. “Unless you’re the bastard that’s draining your customers, you’re hardly the enemy at this point.”

"Is that why you keep looking at me like that?" Seungcheol asks, the barest hint of warmth to his smile. Seokmin can practically see the blood rushing around his body. His eyes are trained to follow magic, and even in the state he's in he can still see things the average human would miss. "Because you're magic drunk?"

Seungcheol's dark shirt fits tight over his arms. There is a pale sliver of collarbone. He's really hot. Seokmin wants to eat him alive in every way. 

It's a lot of things. The magic wreaking havoc on his cells. The lingering tension between him and Minghao, still a forbidden kind of thrill. The way he wants, because desire can be tamed, but it can't be beaten out of you the same way other emotions can. Seokmin has never been one to give up on things he really wants.

Seokmin leans forward and kisses him. Seungcheol stills, not stiff exactly, but careful, guarded. He probably doesn't want to take advantage. So Seokmin reaches out and laces his fingers with Seungcheol's on the bed, avoiding his injured side. He tugs, gently, and Seungcheol follows. 

When Seungcheol finally kisses him back he moans, moves his hands to Seungcheol's waist, feeling the strength and heat of his body through his shirt. Their lips slide together comfortably, and it's easy to think about letting Seungcheol put his mouth all over him. He wants him to trace every scar with lips and teeth, wants to tell him about each one while he jerks himself off. 

Seokmin's hands find their way to Seungcheol's hips at the touch of their tongues. It's thrilling, intoxicating and heady. He tries to pull Seungcheol into his lap, but finds he's still a little weak from the magic. Seungcheol, for whatever reason, is stubborn about it, settling his injured arm around Seokmin's shoulder, fingers toying lightly with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn't know how long they spend kissing before Seokmin's hand worms under Seungcheol's shirt, but he knows the wolf is furnace hot to the touch. He licks into his mouth just to feel the muscles jump under his hand. 

Seungcheol breaks the kiss first, pupils blown. Seokmin feels a little breathless, gasping in one breath and then another. The third time he does it, Seungcheol's brow furrows. He takes his hand off the back of Seokmin's neck and puts it on his forehead. 

"You look like you're going to pass out," Seungcheol says. His eyes move rapidly all over Seokmin's face. 

The magical wound-not-wound on his stomach flares hot, as if on cue, and Seokmin's vision crackles with television snow. Like Minghao is magically cockblocking him. Asshole. Seokmin is going to deck him in the jaw the next time they see each other. Seokmin gasps in another breath and Seungcheol unlaces their fingers, moving both hands to Seokmin's shoulders and easing him flat on his back.

"Concentrate on breathing," Seungcheol says, "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let things get out of hand."

Seokmin shakes his head and the edges of his vision shimmer and then go black.

"Shut up. You're hot. I want to take your clothes off."

Seungcheol manages a grin even with the worry still creasing his brow. 

"And when all this magic gets out of you? How will you feel then, hunter?" Seungcheol looks away. "I won't hold it against you. This isn't the first time one of your kind was attracted to me. It won't be the last, either."

“Not hunter,” Seokmin grits out. “Seokmin. My name is Seokmin.”

Seokmin takes another deep breath to tell Seungcheol something like, _Life is too short for real regret. Even with Minghao, I don't regret the way things happened_.

Before he can say anything else, everything goes dark.

  
  
  


**⛦** **⛦** **⛦**

  
  


Seokmin wakes up facing the window. The curtains are cream, a sliver of space letting the sunlight in. The night comes back to him in bits and pieces, the hard edge of Minghao’s eyes, Seungcheol’s gentle hands and warm grin. 

Seungcheol. Right. 

He rolls over and Seungcheol is on the other side of the bed on top of the blankets, hugging a pillow tight to his chest. His dark hair is tousled, hanging in his eyes in a way that’s far too cute to admit out loud. He reaches out and moves the hair from his eyes, smoothing his bangs as gently as he can so he doesn’t wake up.

Seokmin _kissed_ him. He kissed — 

This isn’t the thing that has him bolting out of bed and leaving the small apartment as quickly and as quietly as he can. No, it’s when he wonders what Minghao would think if he knew. Minghao, always the better hunter, always more apt to follow the rules, even when he didn’t like them. Minghao, with his iron walls two meters high, who used to look at Seokmin like he was no one and then one day, like the awakening of magic, looked at him like he was everything.

And that, really, was the beginning of the end.

He spares one last look at Seungcheol before he leaves the apartment. Werewolf. Monster. A clock above his head from the day of his birth, ticking down the hours until a silver bullet pierces his heart. 

The Academy sends lavish gifts for exterminating clans. Seokmin keeps that money in a hidden compartment in the trunk of his car. Thinking about Seungcheol as just another wiped out clan, another stack of bills, makes bile rise up his throat.

Seokmin manages to keep himself busy for most of the day, thoughts only creeping in once he’s settled in for the night. Helping Seungcheol was just payback. A way to settle his debt. Kissing him wasn’t part of the deal, but Seokmin wanted to. He still wants to, even in the hush of his apartment, windows covered so he can sleep after night jobs. Seungcheol is a monster and he wants to kiss him anyway. It doesn't mean anything. There are plenty of people Seokmin has wanted to kiss in his life, plenty that he has kissed and then, desire sated, left behind. 

It’ll be easier to forget once he gets back to work. And he will forget. He has to.

A few weeks later, Seokmin hunts a pack of ghouls and Seungcheol is there, seated on the steps of a mausoleum, watching him with shining amber eyes. In a weird way he kind of expected it. Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would save someone’s life, kiss them and just let things go after. Seokmin doesn’t worry about it, concentrates on the ghoul in front of him, on firing iron bullets into the creatures hearts and heads, drawing runes and shooting blasts of fire at them, burning the bodies so they will not rise again.

Seokmin kills and Seungcheol watches, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The more ruthless Seokmin is, the brighter Seungcheol’s eyes shine. They don’t speak the entire time, and when Seokmin looks up after finishing off the pack Seungcheol is gone. If he goes home and jerks off to the thought of fucking Seungcheol in the graveyard, dirty and fast, blood rushing with adrenaline after the hunt, there is no one around to know.

Three weeks later Seokmin tracks a shifter, and just as the creature sprints away, taking the form of a nondescript man, Seunghceol appears out of nowhere, tackling the man to the ground. The shifter wriggles out of his grasp, arm bloody from Seungcheol’s clawed hands. Seokmin takes the time to reload his gun, spares a glance to Seungcheol’s lean body. He’s dressed in all black. Was he on his way to the bar? Seungcheol chases after the shifter and Seokmin follows. By the time he makes it to the mouth of the alley, Seungcheol has the creature pinned, arms behind its back. It screams, the sound not quite human. In the dimness, Seokmin can see its skin bulge, bones rearranging underneath as it takes on Seungcheol’s appearance. 

Seokmin meets the eyes of the real Seungcheol as he pulls the trigger. He knows what he looks like when he kills, the cool detached place that he goes. The shifter’s body crumples to the ground and Seungcheol is breathing hard, blood splattering his dark shirt right over his heart.

“Nice shot,” Seungcheol pants. His eyes flash amber in the street light. Seokmin’s skin feels too tight, suddenly. 

It’s getting harder to ignore now. A passing attraction to a pretty face is one thing, but the way that he feels right now, the way he wants Seungcheol to pin him to the rough bricks, pull his hair and sink his teeth into his neck. Well, he can’t really ignore it much longer.

“First the graveyard, now this.” Seokmin takes a step closer. “Why are you doing this?”

Seungcheol is quiet for a long time, silence filled by their soft breathing.

“You saved my life,” he says finally. There’s something behind his eyes, some hidden meaning to his words that Seokmin doesn’t really understand.

“Because you saved mine,” he counters. 

Seungcheol grins.

“You haven’t tried to kill me yet. You left before I woke up. You could have killed me in my sleep, but you didn’t.”

There isn’t an easy answer, no way for Seokmin to explain that yes, he’s attracted to Seungcheol. Yes, he knows Seungcheol is a wolf, a natural born monster that should be eradicated. Seokmin has spent his entire life like this, learning to kill, killing, hands stained black and red and candy blue.

“I’m not some coward,” Seokmin says instead. “When I decide to kill you, you’ll know it.”

Seungcheol laughs at his back as he walks away. He has to fight very hard not to join him.

It becomes a kind of routine, after that. Seokmin hunts and Seungcheol watches him, helps him when needed. They don’t meet up after, never grab drinks or even say much of anything to each other. His presence is soothing, comforting like when they practiced hunting in pairs back at The Academy. Comforting like opening the door to his apartment to find Minghao asleep on his couch, in his bed. Minghao is still too fresh of a wound. Seungcheol is like morphine, dangerously numbing. A little too much and Seokmin will easily stop breathing.

For now, though, he doesn’t mind.

It’s two months into this arrangement with Seungcheol when Seokmin comes home to Jihoon sitting on his couch. Well, sprawled across it is more accurate. He’s got an arm over his eyes, and in any other circumstance Seokmin would just think he was sleeping. He locks the door behind him, hangs his keys on the hook, and slips out of his shoes. 

Neither of them speak for a long time. It’s on purpose, of course. Jihoon’s favorite way to get information out of those he’s taken under his wing is to let his presence do the work for him. The problem is that Seokmin isn’t a child anymore, and while Jihoon is a powerful hunter and skilled magic user, he is just a man.

“You’re hunting with a wolf.” Jihoon says. His eyes are still covered. His hair is blonde, freshly done. It’s long enough that when he sits up it will hang in his eyes. “You’re using a monster to kill monsters.”

Seokmin moves closer, standing in front of the coffee table. The barrier is useless, but something about the physical separation makes him feel better. He prickles at the words.

“And just who told you that?” Seokmin asks, clipped.

He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on the arm of the couch near Jihoon’s feet. It’s enough to make him sit up, and when he takes his arm away from eyes they are narrowed. Not that Seokmin expected him to look any different. He’s barely aged since Seokmin was a child, a perk of magic. Time is only shown on Jihoon’s body in scars. There is a new one across his neck, a slash through two punctures, where he must have been bitten by a vampire and treated the wound to prevent turning.

“My sources are none of your business, Seokmin,” Jihoon says, warning. He shakes his hair until it falls somewhat neatly in front of his eyes. “Plural. Because it’s not just once that I’ve been told about your recent...activities.”

Seokmin frowns, but he doesn’t deny it. If Jihoon is here, in his apartment, they are well past that. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“I have it under control. I don’t think my methods are anyone’s business.” Jihoon scoffs but Seokmin presses on. “I get my assignments and I carry them out. I keep my territory safe. What more do you want from me?”

“The Academy does not condone this kind of work. Monsters are meant to be eliminated, not made into some kind of ally.” Jihoon pulls a lighter out of his pocket, flips it open and then shut absently. “Kill the damn thing, or I’ll do it for you.” He sneers, something almost gleeful that sends a bolt of fear through Seokmin’s chest. “I think we both know how it’ll go if I do it for you.”

 _Rule number six: you are the hero. Act like it._

Seokmin stares at him for a long time. In the weeks that Seungcheol has been following him, he’s found that he enjoys the wolf’s company. Seungcheol was born a werewolf, and in spite of the monster this makes him, he’s much more human than some of Seokmin’s classmates, probably more than the man sitting on his couch.

The Academy doesn’t care, of course. As a hunter, he shouldn’t care either. A monster is a monster, and they are abominations that do not deserve to live. 

He remembers Jihoon next to him, adjusting his hand position on the handle of a knife, the surprisingly gentle grip on his wrist when he showed Seokmin just how hard to throw in order to hit the bullseye.

Seokmin meets Jihoon’s eyes.

“I’ll take care of it.”

When Jihoon leaves he doesn’t say goodbye. Seokmin lays on his couch, opposite the way Jihoon was laying like some kind of small defiance, and stares up at the ceiling. If he throws his knife the way Jihoon taught him, where will it end up? Just who is the monster he’s hunting this time?

  
  


**⛦** **⛦** **⛦**

  
  


A week after Jihoon’s visit, Seokmin is given an assignment. A lycanthrope, of all things. Seokmin reads the note three times to make sure it’s not some kind of elaborate hoax. The general population thinks that werewolves and lycanthropes are the same thing, but the truth is that werewolves are born, and lycanthropes are made, usually an attack gone wrong. 

It takes a lot of tracking to hunt her down. Phone calls to every source at his disposal. Jihoon didn’t give him a single hint as to where he should start, bastard. Lycanthropes are messy, transforming into ravenous beasts at the full moon, where they are usually killed by the closest wolf clan in an effort to hide their existence from the world. It’s Soonyoung who finally gives him the info.

‘ _I’ve heard rumors_ ,’ Soonyoung says, voice fading in and out around the rumble of his car engine. ‘ _Some girl who moved here a few months ago. Said she wanted a fresh start after some hiking accident_.’

Seokmin almost groans out loud. For an information broker, Soonyoung sure loves to take his time getting to the important stuff. 

“So where can I find her?” he asks, laying false sweetness into his voice to hide the annoyance. 

For all the ways Seokmin is sure Soonyoung knows he doesn’t like him, the sweet routine never fails to get him information. Soonyoung curses under his breath, mutters about drivers and how anyone can get a license these days. Seokmin wants to throw his phone.

‘ _You’ll love this. She rents an old house at the edge of the forest, you know, the one where all the monsters prowl around._ ’ Seokmin rubs his temples while Soonyoung chuckles. ‘ _People tried to warn her too, but she brushed them off. Said if there were any monsters they’d be more afraid of her than she’d be of them_.’

“Great. Thanks for your time Soonyoung,” Seokmin rushes and hangs up before Soonyoung can keep him on the line for another second. 

She’s cocky, but the full moon is two days away. He’s going to watch her transform into a monster and shoot her between the eyes. He’s a bit thankful Seungcheol will be there. Lycanthropes are not as strong as true wolves but they’re definitely strong enough to break Seokmin’s spine without much effort. If things keep escalating between them, Seokmin isn’t sure he’ll be able to keep from dropping to his knees right after the job. 

He spends the next two days preparing. He goes for a run, wonders what it would be like to do this with Seungcheol, if he would even work up a sweat running at Seokmin’s fastest pace. He cleans his entire knife collection, polishes each blade, sharpens his favorites until just a press to his finger splits the skin. He does laundry. He thinks about Seungcheol. He spends a lot of time thinking about Seungcheol, even on his stake out of the house at the edge of the forest. It’s actually inside of a clearing instead of at the edge like Soonyoung told him. This is why he never fully trusts Soonyoung’s information.

When the moon is bright and high in the sky Seokmin sets out. He’s loaded his gun with silver bullets, sheathed two knives with silver coated blades. He pointedly ignores the way his heart hammers, adrenaline, anticipation. He can never feel Seungcheol’s eyes on him, but he knows he’s there, knows that as soon as things really begin he’ll catch the flash of wolf eyes in his periphery. 

The thing about lycanthropes is that they have no conscious thought. At the full moon they are reduced to base need, hunt and eat and kill. Seokmin is not surprised to find the woman, already transformed, running through the woods, chasing anything that so much as rustles the leaves. 

Her fur is black. She stands on two legs, the kind of wolf-man hybrid the movies are fond of. Her muzzle shines in the moonlight, clawed hands stained dark with blood. She has already killed something, though Seokmin is pretty sure it’s some woodland creature and not a human being. 

He walks quietly, using the house for cover as long as he can. When he reaches the tree line he crouches behind a large trunk, takes out his pistol and releases the safety. She is a large target, moving but easy enough to sight down that Seokmin doesn’t take the time to properly aim. 

He pulls the trigger, and that’s when everything becomes chaos.

The shot hits the lycanthrope in the shoulder, knocking her back a step. She snarls, muzzle whipping toward him. She doesn’t run. Instead, she crouches and jumps, covers the distance between them in an instant, claws glinting in the moonlight as she slashes down at him. Seokmin manages to dodge, rolling backward. She’s on him in a second, pink stained teeth and bright yellow eyes. 

The panic is instant. The only thing he can seem to think is, where is Seungcheol?

He takes a knife from his forearm sheath and drives it into the creature’s other shoulder. She makes a horrifying sound between a scream and a growl, flesh sizzling as the knife burns through. She’s weakened enough that Seokmin can push her off of him. He scrambles back, pushing himself away with his legs. 

She reaches out, lightning fast, and pierces his calf with her claws. Seokmin grunts, fights back a scream, frees another knife and stabs it into the fleshy part of her forearm. Instead of letting go, her claws sink in deeper. Seokmin’s vision swims even as she uses her hold to pull herself closer. He aims his gun and shoots point blank.

Two more shots and the lycanthrope is slack on the ground, claws finally loosening. Seokmin removes them from his calf as quickly as he can, ignoring the scream of pain that flares up his leg. It’s better to be done with it. Supernatural creatures all carry their own brand of sickness, poisons, toxins. Less exposure is always better.

Seokmin’s chest heaves in the silence that follows. He feels like he’s run a marathon. Stupid. He’s so _stupid_. He has never truly needed a partner before, and with Seungcheol and his supernatural strength tagging along he’s gotten complacent. He’s lucky he’s not dead, that the deep punctures in his leg are the only injury he has.

He tucks his gun into the holster at the small of his back, rips off the cleanest part of his shirt and wraps the wound tight. He lays back against the ground, stares at the stars through the canopy of trees, and takes a few minutes to catch his breath. Killing is the easy part. It’s disposal that’s harder.

He has to drag the creature back to the house, and while it’s not an incredibly long distance, the wound in his leg makes it take much longer than it normally would. His shirt is soaked with sweat by the time he gets the lycanthrope inside. From there it’s as simple as drawing a fire rune on the inside wall with the blood from his leg. He presses his hand to the spell and flames spread out from his palm. The house ablaze, he walks out and into the night. 

He doesn’t realize how much time has passed until he makes it to the other side of the forest. By the time he makes it to his car the sun is huge and orange, peeking up from the horizon. He shields his eyes, and it’s then that he gets a strange feeling. A _wrongness_ , somehow. He’s never been one to ignore his instincts.

Instead of going home to shower and pass out, Seokmin drives straight to Seungcheol’s apartment. He’s only able to find it again because he is a hunter, used to memorizing landmarks and directions as fast as he can. He parks on the street and walks up the few flights of stairs it takes to reach his floor. When he knocks on Seungcheol’s door, there is no answer. When he tries the knob, he finds the door has already been kicked in, pulled shut just enough to disguise the damage from view. It swings open slowly, and Seokmin is greeted by destruction.

The apartment looks like a small explosion went off, papers and furniture shoved around and overturned. A break in? A quick scan shows all the usual big ticket electronics still in their places. So then — 

It’s the smear of blood on the wall, two bloody handprints, one large and one smaller, that set Seokmin’s teeth on edge. This is why Seungcheol wasn’t with him. He’s gone, obviously not by choice. The question is, where was he taken? Seokmin can tell easily that the second handprint on the wall is not Jihoon’s, too narrow, fingers a bit too short. Would someone else be hunting him? 

It’s like a small electric shock, like Seokmin reached out and touched a live wire. _Minghao_. The handprint could be Minghao’s, the size is close enough. Minghao would avoid Seokmin after their last meeting, but if it was a direct order from The Academy…

Seokmin’s mind races with possibilities, but all of them boil down to saving Seungcheol. 

He focuses on assessing the scene in front of him. No use being a hunter if he ignores his training when he needs it most. His leg throbs as the adrenaline of the hunt wears off. He’ll have to swing by his apartment to clean it up. 

At first, he thinks the hunter has left no traces. The bloody handprint is more useful to civilians than it is to Seokmin. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, then another. Focuses on his breathing until even the throb in his leg fades away. There is magic inside of him. The guns and the knives make it easy to forget. 

He traces a rune on his forearm and holds his palm in front of him, the sign of the wolf. 

_Rule number seven: in order to kill a beast you must become one._

When he opens his eyes, everything is sharper. He can smell Seungcheol, _really_ smell him, the scent of the wolf inside of him. He grabs a clean towel from Seungcheol’s kitchen and wipes his handprint off the wall. It’s better to take something with Seungcheol’s scent with him. The rune will last for a few hours, and the more keenly he can focus on the scent, the easier he will be to track. The other scent is one he doesn’t immediately recognize. Not Minghao, after all. He’s tasted every inch of Minghao’s skin, smelled him fresh from the shower and after three days in the field. There are things that change over time, but this is not one of them. 

It doesn’t make him feel better. Instead of the fantasy he’d already started concocting (where he talks Minghao down, and maybe they fuck one last time while Seungcheol watches), now he’s up against a trained hunter he isn’t familiar with. 

As he drives back to his apartment, Minghao’s words echo in his mind. _I won’t be the last hunter to come looking for him_. What did Seungcheol _do_? Since Seokmin has known him, he’s been nothing but kind. He hasn’t attacked humans. He hasn’t done anything that would warrant death.

Except be what he is, Seokmin’s brain is quick to remind him. Hunters eliminate supernatural creatures without a thought to any suspected humanity inside of them. Since Jihoon’s visit Seokmin has been mulling it over. Seungcheol is a good person before he is a wolf, and Seokmin is going to save him. Because he wants to. Because even if it goes against everything he has ever known, it’s what feels right to him in this moment.

Seokmin stumbles into his apartment and douses his wound with healing tonic. Junhui, as a witch, treads a very careful line of existence between The Academy’s teachings and the civilian world, so he makes himself invaluable by supplying any hunter that passes through his shop salves and tonics that heal supernatural injuries. 

The wound bubbles and gushes black fluid. Seokmin gasps, digging nails into his palm until he feels them cut into his flesh. He douses the wound again and again, until the bottle is almost gone and the wound runs clear, the slightest tinge of pink as blood flows to the area and begins the healing process. He bandages himself and puts on an all black outfit, strapping himself down with a few extra weapons. 

By the time he is ready, the spell he used earlier has changed his eyes to a bright amber. He catches sight in the mirror and stares. Monster. In this moment, and always, he is more of a monster than the things he kills. 

Back on the street, he walks in the direction opposite Seungcheol’s apartment on gut instinct. He can smell Seungcheol’s blood on the towel even tucked into his jeans. The wind rustles the leaves around him, and it’s then he catches it. The faintest hint of him.

Tracking is always a slow and careful thing, more planning involved than a person would expect. This is not his usual style of tracking. In fact, he hasn’t used the sign of the wolf since he was at The Academy, Jeonghan his prey as part of their final test. The memory of it is jarring. He can almost smell Jeonghan now, remembers the way he looked under the moonlight, Seokmin’s enchanted eyes showing not a hint of flaw in his features. 

He walks through a cemetery. It’s an older one, headstones giant effigies, loud and important. At the edge of the cemetery is a small clump of woods. Seungcheol’s scent is stronger now, fresher. He’s getting closer, but the spell is almost out of time. The sun is low, almost setting, and by sundown he will have to rely on his tracking skills alone. 

The trees envelop him. Sun and sound, stealing away everything that isn’t innately his. He takes a deep breath, scents the air, walks further into the dimness. The air is cooler, goosebumps creeping along the bare skin of his arms. His leg gives a small pang at the drop in temperature. The healing tonic has helped, but his body will still have to heal the wound. There is no magic that can reverse wounds, nothing to bring the dead back to life. 

Well, not for humans, at least.

There is a blindingly bright light. Straight in his eyes, like someone holding a flashlight point blank. He squints against it and hears the sound of a gun being cocked behind him. The press of the barrel to the center of his back isn’t as unnerving as it once was. He’s grown used to it over the years.

“Now what’s a respectable hunter like Lee Seokmin doing in a place like this?” the voice asks, low and rumbling near his ear. 

It’s almost distinct enough to be familiar, but the memory escapes him. If the man knows his real name, he’s definitely from The Academy.

“Hunting,” Seokmin replies coolly. It’s not a lie. 

The man behind him scoffs, presses the gun more insistently against his back.

“Right. Of course. My mistake.” The sneer in his voice is poisonous. He chuckles. “Cut the bullshit and walk. Straight ahead. Use that wolf spell for anything and I’ll blow your brains out.”

Seokmin takes a breath and walks, wracking his mind with each step. Who is the man behind him? What does he want with Seokmin, with Seungcheol? They end up in front of an old hunting lodge, lights off, silence deafening. He’s surprised a home like this even exists so close to the cemetery. He’s pressed on, up the front steps and through the door. 

It’s about what he’s expecting inside.

Seungcheol is chained to the floor, heavy silver links long since charred through the skin of his wrists. He’s covered in sweat, streaked with blood and breathing hard as what must be agonizing pain washes over him. He doesn’t look up to acknowledge their arrival, shaggy hair hiding his eyes from view. The light clicks on, and the man behind him finally shows his face. 

He’s tall, long and lean, black clothes made darker with obvious blood stains. There’s a deep claw mark on his right arm. It feels good to see him injured. Seokmin wants to laugh at him. He wants to dig his fingers into the wound as deep as they will go, wants to make him suffer as much as possible.

“I was told to keep an eye out for you,” the hunter says, lips turned up almost catlike. “It was my fault for letting him get away in the first place. He’s crafty. Worms his way into your head, makes you think he’s more than just a beast that needs exterminating.”

 _He is_ , Seokmin thinks. He wants Seungcheol to look at him, wants to prove it to the wolf so much it makes his head spin. 

“I can see you don’t remember me,” the hunter continues with a grin. “That’s alright. We existed in very different circles at The Academy, after all. I’m Jeon Wonwoo.”

The name, at least, sparks a little recognition. Hushed whispers from Jeonghan, narrowed eyes from Jihoon. The not so secret truth of The Academy is that there are hunters trained into obedience and hunters trained to be set loose. 

Hunters who exist to clean up messes, or sometimes to make them. Jeon Wonwoo is one of them.

Seokmin forces his body to relax. He regards Wonwoo with a look of disinterest. “To think a wolf could fool someone like you, well, I can hardly believe it.”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes and holds out his hand. Electricity crackles at his fingertips. 

“Watch your tone, Lee Seokmin.”

Seokmin’s mouth pulls into a smile that is charming but obviously fake. “Or what? You don’t think I know what your presence means for me? The Academy’s attack dog. You’re going to kill me either way. I think it’s only fair if I have some fun.”

It’s these words that make Sungcheol look up. Blood is caked at the corner of his mouth, a dried stream running down his chin. The movement makes the chains hiss again and really, Seokmin can’t believe there is any flesh left untouched by the silver. Seungcheol meets his eyes and it’s this strange mix of disbelief and fear. Like he can’t believe Seokmin would really come for him. Like he’s afraid that Seokmin is going to die. It felt more dangerous fighting a lycanthrope than it does standing in this room, facing down a hunter that’s more like an assassin.

Wonwoo snorts. Seokmin turns his eyes back to the man just in time to see lightning launch from his fingers and hit Seungcheol. He makes a sound that would be a scream if he had more strength, body shaking as the magic works through his system. He coughs and blood splatters the wood floor. 

Seokmin starts moving without thinking, feet carrying him closer to the hunter before his brain has time to catch up. Wonwoo shoots another blast of lightning straight for his chest, and he flings himself to the floor to avoid it. Wonwoo shakes his hand like it's gone numb and Seokmin uses the opportunity to launch a blast of fire.

Wonwoo doesn’t dodge so much as he completely vanishes. The room is full of heat from the blast, air shimmering, but Wonwoo is just...gone.

Seokmin doesn’t waste time. He rushes over to Seungcheol. His hands are trembling between them when he reaches out. The desire to touch is overwhelming. _I’m here, it’s okay_. Before he can open his mouth to say it he’s knocked against the wall with a blast of electricity. 

He can feel the magic spread through his veins, muscles spasming. He grits his teeth and groans through it. Wonwoo stands in the place he was, between him and Seungcheol. His eyes are dark when he turns to him.

“I’m going to kill him. You’re going to be a good boy and watch, or I’m going to kill you too.”

  
  


**⛦** **⛦** **⛦**

  
  
  


Things get a little hazy after that. Wonwoo’s magic is strong enough to leave Seokmin feeling disoriented, like a milder version of Minghao. By this time the spell has fully worn off, not that it would have given him much advantage in a fight, but it makes him feel weakened all the same. He sees Seungcheol pull at his chains, eyes bleeding amber, snarling and lunging at Wonwoo as much as he’s able. He blinks and Seungcheol is on the ground, silver tipped knife in his arm, blood pouring out around the blade.

Bastard. Wonwoo is a nasty, vile man who probably gets off on making his kills suffer as much as possible. It’s not like they’re human, Seokmin’s brain is quick to remind him. Their suffering isn’t supposed to mean the same thing to a hunter like him.

“So _that’s_ what it is,” Wonwoo says, voice practically echoing off the cabin walls. Seokmin flexes his fingers, tests the strength in his body. “He’s in love with you.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “A wolf. Imagine that. I didn’t think your kind were really capable of that kind of emotion.”

Seungcheol laughs, hissing as the movement jostles the knife in his arm. “Says a man who regularly visits the Kim estate.” Wonwoo’s eyes narrow at that. Seungcheol grins. “You think word doesn’t get around, Mister Hunter? You don’t think we all know why you take contracts for the Kim Clan?”

Wonwoo sends out a tendril of electricity, delicate like a whip, and uses it to press the knife deeper into Seungcheol’s shoulder. The added shock makes his body jolt helplessly, and he clenches his jaw to keep from making any noise. Seokmin wiggles the fingers in his other hand, readying himself. 

“I go where the money is. If the Kim Clan wants to pay me triple to take out a pesky little stray Wolf, while The Academy pays me a poor excuse for a salary to wipe out the Kim Clan, what do you think any sane person would do?”

Seokmin can’t stop the laugh from bubbling out of him. Wonwoo turns toward him, tendril of electricity still wrapped around the knife in Seungcheol’s arm. Seungcheol shakes and shakes and Seokmin’s vision goes red as anger flares hot in his veins.

“Everything you do goes against the things we were taught,” he spits, moving off the wall carefully. 

“No. It goes against the things _you_ were taught. There’s quite a big difference. Who do you think instructed me to do whatever I wanted, use whatever means necessary as long as monsters died at my hands?” Wonwoo laughs. Seokmin fights back a shiver. 

He launches his own bolt of lighting at Wonwoo as quickly as he can get his hand to form the rune. Wonwoo dodges easily, but it has the desired effect of taking his attention off of Seungcheol. The moment the magic leaves him he slumps against the floor, shirt dark with sweat and blood. 

Wonwoo sends wave after wave of magic toward him, and Seokmin is able to dodge almost all of it. It seems that Seungcheol’s comments really _did_ get under his skin, something about the hunter a little more unstable than before.

Seokmin smirks. “Did the Academy teach you to fuck monsters, too?”

Wonwoo growls, sending another whip of lightning at Seokmin. It snags his calf and his body lights up, wound still fresh enough to break open again, but he manages to stay on his feet. 

“It seems that’s what they taught _you_ ,” he counters. It’s as childish as his big, unplanned attacks, and Seokmin feels like they might actually have a chance. 

Wonwoo hits him with a fire blast in the chest. Seokmin doesn’t even have time to gasp before he hits the ground. For a while all he can hear is Seungcheol’s heavy breathing and Wonwoo’s maniacal laughter. 

_Rule number eight: bear the weight of violence. You gotta save_ _—_

Seokmin can’t remember the rest, not with the way his ears are ringing and his chest is burning with leftover flame. Who was he supposed to save again?

He cracks his eyes open in time to see Wonwoo looming over him with a wooden stake, legs on either side of Seokmin’s body. Like Seokmin is some kind of monster that needs to be exterminated. It’s the other way around, really. 

“I’m going to kill you first after all,” Wonwoo says with a smirk. “But rest assured, your lover boy will be right behind you.”

There is a sound, and suddenly Wonwoo falls backward, lands so hard his head bounces off the floor. Seungcheol. He’s wrapped clawed hands around Wonwoo’s legs and gotten him down. There’s no time for Seokmin to hesitate. He can’t. He doesn’t.

He sits up and shoots Wonwoo with a blast of electricity, one and then another. Wonwoo doesn’t scream, though Seokmin doesn’t expect him to. He watches his body writhe under the magic, keeps hitting him with it until Wonwoo’s body is slack on the floor. 

Seungcheol stares at him in the deafening silence that follows. 

“Is he dead?” Seungcheol pants.

Seokmin crawls closer, until he can see the lightest rise and fall of his chest. He shakes his head.

“Do you want him to be?”

Seungcheol is quiet for a long time, staring at the hunter. Seokmin has never killed a human before, but he thinks Wonwoo barely qualifies, anyway. Would The Academy even care if someone like him was killed? Would Seokmin even get a formal inquisition for it?

Seungcheol holds his hands out in front of him. The chains jangle, and Seokmin hurries over to take them off. He traces the cuffs to activate the rune ( _hunter magic is all the same, a blessing and a curse_ ), and they fall off Seungcheol’s wrists easily. He cradles them gently against his stomach, not even daring to rub the skin with his fingers. 

“No,” he finally answers. “I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

With one final glance back at the unconscious hunter, Seokmin helps Seungcheol to his feet, and together they start the slow, careful walk home.

  
  
  


**⛦** **⛦** **⛦**

  
  
  


If Seokmin had known six months ago that he would bring a werewolf willingly into his apartment, he probably would have shot the messenger. Even now, staring at Seungcheol, freshly showered and almost totally healed thanks to a little of Jun’s tonic, it doesn’t seem real. Seungcheol had insisted that Seokmin shower first. It seemed rude, but Seungcheol had been quick to point out that the tonic needed some time to start working, and that by the time Seokmin was clean the silver burns would be in much better shape. 

It’s strange, too, to see Seungcheol in his clothes. They’re basically the same size, so it’s not like they drown Seungcheol or anything like that. It’s just that the sight of it has Seokmin’s chest tight. Seungcheol sits on his bed like he’s ready to bolt out of it at the slightest indication and Seokmin stands in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed in front of him. 

They haven’t said much about the whole thing. Up to this point it’s been about getting Seungcheol unchained, getting out of the cabin, getting somewhere safe, and now that it’s over Seokmin can’t seem to find any of the words. _I was worried about you. I missed you. I wanted to see you. I wanted to_ — 

“Thank you,” Seungcheol says, voice soft but eyes burning, locked on Seokmin like he’s trying to drown in them. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Seokmin’s hands flex against his arms tucked away from Seungcheol’s gaze. The words almost have him bristling.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Seungcheol sighs. “Honestly, no.” He looks down at his wrists. The silver burns are little more than pinkish scars now. By morning they might be totally healed. Seungcheol rubs at them with his thumb. “When the hunter came for me, I was sure I was going to die. I outlived my entire Clan. Just because you hadn’t killed me yet —”

Seokmin walks further into the room. This isn’t quite the way he imagined things going. It’s strangely reminiscent of his last conversation with Minghao before he moved out. Sometimes things are only obvious because you know yourself. 

“I don’t want to kill you. I haven’t, not since you took me to your place. Not really. ” He looks up to meet Seokmin’s eyes. “At first I tried to convince myself it was physical attraction, that maybe if I just ignored it, it would go away. But it’s more than that.”

Seungcheol’s eyes flash warm with understanding. His shoulders relax just slightly, but it’s more than he’s been since they got here. 

“Oh?” Seungcheol asks, warmth spreading to the curve of his lips. “You mean kissing monsters before you kill them isn’t your usual foreplay?”

Seokmin huffs, staring down at the floor. Annoyance is easy. It would be easier to blow the whole thing off, to go sleep on the couch and hurry Seungcheol out the door in the morning. 

_Rule number nine: What’s gone is gone. You cannot regain what you’ve lost._

“It’s not,” Seokmin finally answers, looking up to meet Seungcheol’s eyes. “I like you, even though everything I’ve ever known says I shouldn’t. I want to kiss you again.” Seokmin licks his lips. “I never stopped wanting to.”

Seungcheol laughs, almost disbelieving. His hair leaves a trail of water down the side of his neck, the shoulder of Seokmin’s white shirt dotted with moisture. The dimness of the room looks more like candlelight. He’s beautiful. 

“Then kiss me,” Seungcheol says simply, all dimpled smile and bright eyes. 

Seokmin imagined the whole thing a little like this: locking the door behind them as soon as they got to his apartment, Seungcheol slamming their bodies together and kissing him hungrily, desperately, everything forgotten except the buzz of adrenaline in their veins, all-consuming need finally winning out.

It’s a lot more tender, is all. Seokmin closes the distance between them, stands between Seungcheol’s spread knees, and kisses him. The height difference makes it awkward, but before Seokmin has time to decide what to do Seungcheol grabs his ass and practically hauls him into his lap, plants his knees on either side of him on the bed. It’s much easier after that to tangle his fingers in Seungcheol’s damp hair, to deepen the kiss around his pleased hum. 

Seungcheol’s hands are still on his ass, touch light but it gives him a pleasant kind of buzz all the same. His hands are almost the same size as Seokmin’s, a fraction smaller, fingers a fraction thinner, and really, Seokmin only notices because of his training (and not because he’s thought about Seungcheol’s hands on him on so many occasions). Seokmin settles his weight against Seungcheol’s lap and presses closer, kissing him until he’s got to break for air. Seungcheol presses their foreheads together, takes a shaky breath of his own. 

He wonders if Seungcheol has ever been with a human. Probably. Wolves usually end up in arranged marriages, the Clans that are left desperate to keep bloodlines and seats of power. It’s not unheard of for them to take the company of humans in the meantime, and sometimes after.

Seokmin moves to suck a mark against Seungcheol’s throat, humming when he lets out a low rumble he can feel through his whole body.

“What do you want?” Seungcheol asks him, breath hitching when Seokmin sets his teeth against his skin. “This is fine, or —” Seungcheol sucks in a breath, arching into Seokmin’s mouth. “Or, whatever you want. Anything.”

Seokmin grins against Seungcheol’s skin, mouthing a trail up to his ear. “I told you what I wanted the first time we kissed. I wanna take your clothes off.”

Seungcheol’s hands tighten, pressing him down against his crotch. Seokmin feels his own arousal pooling hot under his navel, his cock stirring. He wants Seungcheol’s clothes off. He wants Seungcheol to fuck him into next week. 

When Seokmin pulls back Seungcheol’s eyes flash amber before bleeding to something dark, almost dangerous. He’s never felt a thrill quite like this before. It’s intoxicating. Seungcheol takes his hands off Seokmin to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor before propping back on his hands. 

Most of Seungcheol’s clothes leave little to the imagination, but Seokmin can’t help the way his eyes drink in the body in front of him. Strong, of course, lean, harsh lines and easy curves. Scars too. Seokmin’s eyes catch on silvery scars, claw marks in the center of his chest, an obvious bullet wound between two ribs. A very near miss. Seokmin reaches out and touches the scar, Seungcheol’s body jumping under his hands.

“It was clean,” Seungcheol says softly. “In and out. A miracle that it missed anything vital.”

“Yeah,” Seokmin whispers, breathless. He puts his hands on Seungcheol’s chest, presses him gently until he’s flat on his back. Seungcheol looks up at him hungrily. Seokmin rids himself of his shirt and leans down to kiss him again. 

Seungcheol’s hands find his waist, tracing up over his back, mapping the myriad of scars on his own skin, the largest where he was almost bitten in half by that damn Jung wolf. He lost so much blood. If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t be here now. He can feel Seungcheol’s fingers trace the divots. Surely he knows what they’re from.

Seungcheol breaks the kiss and gets to work leaving a mark of his own on Seokmin, lips at the hollow of his throat. Seokmin groans, hips rolling down against him. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Seokmin says, breath catching when Seungcheol’s hands wander to his waistband. 

“Sexy.” Seungcheol’s tongue traces the mark he’s left on Seokmin’s throat. “Does the supernatural strength do it for you or something?”

Seokmin’s cock twitches very obviously in his sweats. The grin he feels against his skin almost makes him call the whole thing off.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Seokmin says, sitting up to settle his weight against Seungcheol’s hips. “Just don’t break anything. I’m not trying to end up in the ER for sex related injures.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll behave. Promise.”

Seokmin doubts it. Seungcheol doesn’t look like he knows what it means to behave in bed, or anywhere, really.

“How about this?” Seokmin starts, rolling his hips down against Seungcheol, who hisses, hands coming up to grip his hips, encouraging a rhythm. “I’ll do the prep work, you do the fucking. If you break my bed you have to buy me a new one.”

Seungcheol grins. “You think a bartender can go around buying new beds? I’m still recovering, anyway.”

“So it’s a deal then,” Seokmin says, sliding out of Seungcheol’s gentle hold. Seungcheol’s eyes follow him to his dresser, where he digs out lube and condoms, rids himself of the rest of his clothes unceremoniously, and climbs back on the bed. 

Seungcheol manages to keep his mouth closed, but it seems like an effort. Seokmin preens a little under the attention, turning his body so Seungcheol can see his profile, the strength of his thighs, the curve of his ass. Seokmin drops the condoms on the bed and Seungcheol seems to snap out of it, shedding his own pants and underwear (both _his_ , Seokmin’s brain is quick to remind him). His eyes trail down to Seungcheol’s cock, half hard but already shining with precum. He wants to taste him. Later. Maybe a morning blowjob if he wakes up first.

Seokmin coats his fingers in lube, keeps his eyes locked with Seungcheol as he reaches around to tease at his entrance. It’s electric, Seungcheol’s hungry eyes, the way his hand rushes to squeeze the base of his cock when Seokmin eases his finger inside. It’s familiar, grounding. He breathes and starts working his finger, cock twitching as he finds a rhythm. 

It’s a little rushed, hurried because he’s familiar enough with his own body to know how little he can get away with. The second finger is a stretch, but still pleasant enough. He bites off a moan under his breath and Seungcheol’s hand starts moving at the same time, matching his pace. It doesn’t take long for everything to fade into a pleasant buzz. Seokmin twists his fingers, arches his back until he hits that spot he’s looking for. He gasps, bites his lip and Seungcheol’s eyes are pools of black, fixed on the fingers he’s fucking himself with. 

It would be a lie to say Seokmin isn’t a little into being watched like this. He brings his left hand to his mouth, makes a show of licking his palm, fingers skirting over his lips, teasing. He wraps his hand around his cock and _god_ , his whole body crackles with pleasure. It’s a little harder to think like this, pressing into the friction of his hand and working his hips back, fingers as deep as they’ll go. 

Seungcheol is on his knees so fast Seokmin doesn’t see him move, the hand he’s wrapped around himself replaced as Seungcheol strokes them both. Seokmin slips a third finger in when Seungcheol kisses him, moaning into his mouth. He could use more lube but he’s well past caring, lost to slow, easy desire. Seungcheol’s hand is steady, constant rhythm and constant pressure. Another brush past his prostate and Seokmin breaks their kiss, panting against Seungcheol’s shoulder. He fucks into himself a few more times before he pulls out. 

“Okay,” he pants, soft moan escaping him when Seungcheol thumbs the head of his cock. “Okay. I’m good.”

When he looks up Seungcheol’s smile is lazy, and when he eases Seokmin to the mattress he goes willingly, parts his thighs to make space for him. Seungcheol rips the condom wrapper with his teeth, classy, very frat boy, but watching him roll it on has Seokmin’s mouth dry. He’s generous with the lube, slicking himself almost to the point of dripping before he wraps Seokmin’s leg around his hip and lines himself up. 

“I’m not kidding about the bed,” Seokmmin says, grinning. 

“I never once thought you were,” Seungcheol answers. His fingers tighten on Seokmin’s hip as he pushes in.

It’s easy to give himself over. The world is complicated but sex isn’t, has never been to Seokmin. Seungcheol bottoms out in one slow thrust and for a moment he takes him in. His body is one thing, but it’s the eyes Seokmin keeps coming back to. Warm, weighted, like Seungcheol is memorizing, like he’s used to making everything a memory. 

He doesn’t have to tell Seungcheol to move, just like he doesn’t have to tell him that he’s not going anywhere. It’s unspoken but understood. He eases out and back in, starts a slow rhythm. Seokmin arches into it, squeezing Seungcheol’s hip with his thigh. It feels incredible, a jolt of heat rushing through him each time Seungcheol’s hips slap against his. He wonders absently how much Seungcheol is holding back, and on a particularly well timed thrust, one that makes him throw his head back and moan, he decides to find out. 

Seokmin meets Seungcheol’s eyes with a grin.

“I don’t know what I was so worried about,” he says, breath hitching when Seungcheol fucks into him faster. “And here I was scared you were gonna break the bed, or worse, me. Is this really all you’ve got?”

He wonders if Seungcheol will give him a bashful smile and nod, continue with this perfectly fine but not quite what he was expecting pace until they come. Instead, Seungcheol pulls out all at once. Seokmin doesn’t even have time to notice the emptiness before he’s, well, _manhandled_ , Seungcheol flipping him onto his stomach then up to his knees with one arm.

Arousal crackles through him, _god_ , Seungcheol is so _strong_. He slides back into him in one smooth thrust, holds him up with just the press of his palm to Seokmin’s chest. 

“ _What was that_?” Seungcheol growls into his ear, punctuating the question with a harsh snap of his hips. And really, Seokmin would have fallen forward if not for Seungcheol’s hold on him. 

He tries to reply but a moan slips out instead. Seungcheol hums, pleased, and fucks into him faster. The angle has him pressing into Seokmin’s prostate with each thrust. It’s maddening, the gentle pleasure of earlier edging on a desperate need to come, his cock dripping precum against the sheets. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Seokmin breathes.

Seungcheol’s other hand grips the top of his headboard, squeezing the wood until his knuckles turn white. 

“I guess we have our answer,” Seungcheol says. He lets out a shaky exhale, slowing his hips to grind into Seokmin. 

“W-what answer?”

Seungcheol’s hand trails down to his cock, stroking him at the same leisurely pace he’s moving inside of him. 

“The strength does it for you.” Seungcheol’s lips graze his ear. He leaves wet, messy kisses against the side of his neck. “You’re awfully easy to read. If you wanted to get fucked harder you could have just asked.”

Seokmin moans, hips stuttering into the friction of Seungcheol’s hand. He braces his hands against the headboard, leans a little of his weight back against Seungcheol.

The pace is relentless, the sound echoing against the thin walls of his apartment. He’s going to bruise, can practically see the marks on the back of his thighs. Seungcheol’s grip on his cock tightens at the same time he sinks his teeth into the back of his neck. Seokmin’s whole body seizes, breath hitching into a moan. It’s a strange thing, feels a lot like the tattoo he got when he graduated from The Academy, magical ink hidden from sight except those who know how to see it. A secret ownership. 

It’s that thought that tips him right to the edge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, tensing against Seungcheol’s body. “ _Oh_ —”

Seungcheol licks over the bite, breath fanning over his skin in a choked out moan, and Seokmin comes, body coiling tight at the force of it. Seungcheol works him through it, keeps his pace steady. He rubs his hand across Seokmin’s stomach, smearing come on his skin, another mark, another claim, and it's only a few more thrusts before he’s coming too. He buries his face in Seokmin’s shoulder, lets out a breathy swear, and grips the headboard so hard Seokmin hears it crack. 

He wants to laugh, or at least make a joke about it, but he’s totally spent. Seungcheol stills inside of him, aftershocks making them both jolt when he grinds his cock against Seokmin’s sensitive spots. 

“Wow,” Seokmin says, eloquent, arms trembling where he’s holding himself up against the headboard. Seungcheol lets out a shaky laugh behind him as he pulls out. Seokmin flops onto his side. Seungcheol knows where everything in his apartment is, anyway. No need to be the caretaker anymore than he already has. 

“Hunters are really something else,” Seungcheol says as he all but falls back into bed, condom tossed in the trash.

“What do you mean by that?” Seokmin mumbles. There’s no way he’s taking a shower. He can wash the dried come off his skin in the morning. He’s exhausted. 

“You’re a little more durable than regular humans.” He reaches out and moves Seokmin’s bangs out of his eyes. “It was nice.”

“You broke my headboard.”

Seungcheol grins, aiming for sheepish but landing on pleased.

“Cracked it. You can barely see it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that in the morning,” Seokmin murmurs. He settles under the blankets, holding them open so Seungcheol gets the hint and slips under them, too. It’s a relief when he doesn’t question it. 

There are questions, of course. About them, about what this means. Seokmin has an answer that’s good enough for him. He can only hope that if Seungcheol comes out and asks him, it’ll be enough for him too.

They lay in a comfortable quiet for a while, so long that Seokmin’s eyes start to fall shut, body and mind spent.

“So what now?” Seungcheol asks, tucking his arms under his head. He stares up at the ceiling. “Do you think that hunter will come back for me?”

Seokmin opens his eyes and hums, mirroring Seungcheol’s position. Like this, their elbows are just touching under the pillows. Out of sight.

“He seems the type, but as free as the Attack Dogs seem, they have their own rules.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a long time. Seokmin admires his profile from the corner of his eye. Nose, lips, the curve of his jaw. He wants to roll over and sink his teeth into his neck, but he doesn’t.

“If not him, then others.” He hears Seungcheol shift under the blankets. “I’ve been hunted my entire life. I will be until I’m buried in the ground. It’s hard to make that kind of life for two.”

Before, Seokmin might have flustered. Two, us. There is no us. 

_You cannot regain what you’ve lost._

For now, at least, there is. Two. Us.

Seokmin turns to face him, watches the strong beat of Seungcheol’s heart against the muscles of his chest. He’s trained his entire life to hunt and kill monsters. He knows better than most people how hard they are to kill. Even silver bullets aren’t a guarantee.

“I think we can manage,” Seokmin says with a smirk. He locks eyes with Seungcheol. “Let’s just take it as it comes. Besides.” He trails a hand along Seungcheol’s waist. “I’m the best tracker The Academy has ever seen. If anyone knows how to disappear, it’s me.”

There is little tying Seokmin to the city, and even less to The Academy. Maybe Seungcheol is just an excuse, a catalyst for something he’s wanted to do for a long time. Either way, when he slides their lips together again, he’s glad for the company. 

The strength, too. They’ll need that sooner rather than later.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/woncheoling) // [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/tsukkitaeil)


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